Until the End
by AetheriumDreams
Summary: S124's journey begins on Planet Reach. Where it will end, only time will tell. A story told from a trainee's view, with some familiar faces along the way. Please read and review constructively.
1. Prologue: SPARTAN II

The air that surrounded her was cold, and the coldness bit deep into her bare skin, chilling her all the way to the bone. The gleam of bright artificial lights made her bleary eyes smart as she blinked and struggled to focus her vision. How long had she been asleep? It felt like days, weeks. She gagged as she tried to inhale and found her windpipe to be blocked. She grabbed the edge of the strange tub-like bed and leaned over to face the floor, eyes bulging as she choked. Her wet, dripping hair hung around her face like tangled vines.

SLAP!

Something struck her forcefully on the back, hard enough to dislodge whatever was in her throat. She vomited. A clearish, sticky, oozing substance came up and splattered onto the floor. She gasped and spit out more gobs of the stuff, hating the taste. Then she looked up to see who had helped her. She found herself staring up into the leering face of a camouflage-clad, grizzled man who looked much less than happy to see her.

"What're you lookin' at, meat?" he snarled in her face, so loud it almost hurt her ears.

The suddenness of it, plus the shock of throwing up, propelled her to full wakefulness, and she sat back in the strange tub, which really looked like more of a bed. In fact, there were more tubs in here, and she saw more children being woken up by similarly grumpy men. She looked down and covered herself with her arms, drawing her knees up to hide her pale and naked body. All the other kids were naked, too. There were boys and girls, and they all looked to be around her age.

"I want my mommy!"

"Where am I?"

"What's going on?"

"I feel sick…"

Pitiful little voices wailed, punctuated by the occasional sound of regurgitation. She just sat there, dazed, watching but not believing. It was so cold in here. All the noise was too much; she wanted to put her fingers in her ears and run away. This was scary. But she couldn't move for some reason, couldn't make herself do anything but watch…

"On your feet!" the man snapped, grabbing her by the arm. He roughly hauled her out of the tub-thing and when she collapsed, kicked her to make her stand back up. "Here. Put this on, now!" he ordered, shoving a simple gray gown at her.

She put it on, shaking. It was soft and had short sleeves, and came down to her knees. On the front were some letters stenciled in black: U-N-S-C.

"Now move. Move!" The man yanked her arm and made her walk beside him, joining the other men, who had their charges dressed in gray gowns. Boys and girls looked at each other and all around with wide, glazed, confused eyes.

She walked quickly as they moved in a line, her tiny bare feet slapping against the floor as she struggled to keep up with the man's jaunty pace. They went down a hallway that was gray and forbidding, then went past other people in camouflage uniforms.

They went into a wide open room that had funny-looking ships in it. She had seen them once, in vids. They were called _Pelicans_, as she recalled. The uniformed men started going into the Pelicans, each one dragging a child with them. A few of the children screamed and struggled; they were hit repeatedly or kicked for their troubles.

Her handler towed her up the ramp and made her sit down once they were inside. He sat beside her, ramrod-stiff, his jaw set and his eyes hard. She thought he looked kind of scary. But even so, once the ship began to move, she inched closer to him and huddled there, closing her eyes and barely letting her forehead touch his elbow.

"Get offa me," the man growled, jerking his arm away. "I ain't your momma."

She looked up at him with wary eyes, and decided that she hated him.

"You're a butthole," she spat, sniffling. It was the meanest thing she could think of, something her teacher had punished her for saying one day in class. She hoped it really hurt his feelings.

But the handler only smirked, like he found it funny.

"As per Naval Code 45812, you are hereby conscripted into the UNSC Special Project, codenamed SPARTAN II."

She stared up with wide eyes, almost unbelieving, as a woman wearing a white coat addressed all the children as they sat in concentric risers, held firmly in place by their handlers. The horrible wakening, the long ride in the Pelican, this… it all seemed like a bad dream, like she was going to wake up any minute and be back in her warm bed. But no, the minutes dragged by and it became more and more apparent that this, however horrible it might be, was reality.

The sudden rush of trepidation prompted her to stand up. She wanted to go home, right now. She rose from her seat, her brow furrowed, but was shoved back down by her handler, who glared at her when she glanced back at him.

She recognized the woman. They had met about a month ago while she was in school. The woman had been interested in meeting her because she got promoted to third grade when she was only supposed to be in first. The woman had played a game with her, flipping a coin and seeing whether she could tell which side it would land on or not. Like always, she had guessed correctly. After that the woman had left with the serious, handsome man who had accompanied her.

Had that been some kind of test, she wondered? A precursor to what was happening now? It had to have been. It was too much of a coincidence.

"You have been called upon to serve…"

The woman went on to say that the children would become protectors of Earth and all its colonies. That part made her sit up straighter. It sounded… cool. She felt less afraid now and more curious.

Then came the shocking part. The woman explained calmly that they wouldn't be able to go back to their parents. That this place—wherever "here" was—would be their new home, and that their fellow trainees would be their new family. She said it would be hard, but that they would all make it.

Something sounded wrong when she said that last bit, though.

"Rest now," the woman finished, mustering the ghost of a smile. "We begin tomorrow." Then she turned to the man all dressed in black with the medals pinned all over his chest and said something.

The man in black looked at the children and scowled, his chiseled face menacing with its lines and dark, keen eyes. "Yes ma'am," he replied, then yelled "Fall out!"

None of them had any idea what "fall out" meant—maybe they were supposed to fall down on the floor? But then her handler yanked her up by one arm and made her stand up, as did all the other handlers to their charges. She couldn't help the tremble in her lip, or the tight feeling in her throat. She didn't really understand what had just taken place, but deep down she knew it was extremely important, like her whole life had just been turned upside down.

Tomorrow would bring surprises for sure. Six-year-old Adele Montagne was certain that she probably wouldn't like them.


	2. Chapter 1: Day One

**Note: To avoid accusations of plagiarism, I altered the dialogue in the chapter somewhat, since the events are taken directly from Eric Nylund's novel "The Fall of Reach." I tried to make it as fitting as possible without it being a glaringly obvious patchwork job. Please be kind and don't slaughter me for it in reviews. Thanks much. Laconia, over and out.**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

True to suspicion, the next morning started out painfully.

Adele woke up screaming as her legs and torso prickled and stung, and in her effort to get away, ended up tumbling head-first out of bed. She landed hard on the concrete floor, bruising her elbow, and gritted her teeth as pain coursed through her arm. She looked up to see a man like the one she had met last night—different, but still mean-looking and rough—standing over her, a short metal pole in one hand. He pressed a button and the pole spat blue sparks. Adele realized that was what had shocked her, and scrambled to get up, in case he poked her with it again.

"I am Chief Petty Officer Mendez!" a man shouted from the center of the room. Adele recognized him from the night before. "And the rest of these men are your instructors. At all times you will do whatever we say or face the consequences!"

He pointed to Adele's left, toward a doorway. "That's _aft_, where you will find the showers. Wash up, then double-time it back here and dress out."

The man who had shocked Adele opened a trunk by her cot and pulled out a gray sweat suit. Adele glanced at it warily. It had her name on the front, along with the letters 124. She frowned. Didn't they know her last name was Montagne…?

"Quit slacking. MOVE!" Mendez snapped, and to prove his point, zapped the kid beside him right between the shoulders. Adele instinctively started running toward the showers, in case her tormentor got any similar ideas. She slipped into the stampede of frightened children and found that the doorway led to a simple, open row of showerheads, equipped with a dingy bar of soap and a single white towel each. When everyone else started taking their gowns off, she did too. She wasn't chicken. The water wasn't hot or cold, but once she started spraying off the soap, it got really cold. She finished as quick as she could and dried off, then ran back to her cot stark naked. She dug through her trunk and found underwear, socks and black lace-up boots. She put all her clothes on, then waited for more directions. The rest of the kids were dressing as fast as they could, casting fearful glances at the instructors, who still had their batons.

"Now head outside," Mendez growled. "Triple time, GO GO GO!"

They didn't need any further encouragement. The room was clear in a matter of seconds.

Adele lay in the grass and tried hard not to think about the puddle of rank vomit that lay a few feet away. The workout had been intense and grueling—she had never done so many exercises in her whole life, not even at gravball practice. They had done 100 reps of jumping jacks, sit ups, deep squats, and knee bends. Then came the leg lifts. Adele hadn't quit, but she certainly hadn't done one hundred. Her core had given out by then, and it was only sheer determination to _not _run around the compound twice then do two hundred sit ups that saw her through. That was the penalty for quitting.

She forced herself to sit up and crawled toward a cart full of water bottles. She got one, twisted off the cap, and drank it down, not caring that it tasted disgusting. Then she fell back down and closed her eyes, feeling the hot sun on her face. Sweat soaked through her clothes and her hair, trickling over her bare skin. Her heart was still beating in her ears, causing her thoughts to muddle. She wanted to go home so badly—

"Rest's over," Mendez announced. "Now RUN!"

Adele immediately jumped up and started running when a trainer approached her with a baton.

The herd of children stampeded along a gravel path that led past barracks, then ran alongside a river and over a bridge. They passed airfields and got to watch planes taking off. Then they came to a path that had lots of Z-shaped curves. It was all Adele could do to keep from falling over. Surely they would reach their destination soon…

Finally they came to a stone courtyard that had a flag in the middle of it. Adele saw a funny-looking building up ahead and squinted to read the words on the arch. _Naval Officers Academy_. She wondered why anyone would send six-year-old kids to a school meant for grown-ups, for soldiers.

Then she saw a woman wearing an odd white dress standing on the top step. She had a serene expression and features like a Greek statue Adele had seen in a history vid. Then she moved, and tiny flecks of light moved with her. She wasn't really there, she was an AI. Adele had seen AIs back home at the place her mother worked. They could be any shape or size; some even chose to look like animals. But this one looked regal, almost otherworldly.

"Excellent, Chief Petty Officer Mendez," the AI said, her voice calm and wise. She looked at the children with eyes that couldn't really "see," but were piercing all the same. "Welcome, trainees. I am Déjà, your teacher. Please enter. Class will begin shortly."

There were several groans and low grumbles. Adele snorted. They had come all this way just to go to school?

"Then again, I am sure you would much rather forego class and perform more calisthenics with Chief Mendez."

All the children moved up the steps, straining to get inside and away from Mendez.

Cool air hit Adele's face as she entered the building. There were many desks with trays waiting for them, each one laden with crackers and a carton of milk. She made a beeline for a tray and ate a cracker. It tasted dry and salty and made her parched throat feel even worse. So she opened her carton of milk and slowly sipped it, relishing how refreshing and sweet it tasted.

She glanced over at the boy beside her. He had tousled brown hair and freckles. His shirt said "John-117." He looked tired, and tried to go to sleep on his desk. But then the AI, Déjà, started to tell them a story. It was about three hundred soldiers called "Spartans" and how they fought against thousands of Persians in an epic battle.

A chorus of ooh's and aah's went up as a holographic scene popped up in the classroom. A few of the children stood up and walked around, kicking at the rolling sea with their boots. Tiny soldiers fought in a pass called Thermopylae, three hundred good guys against thousands of bad guys. The Spartans were outnumbered, but each fought with more skill and force than twenty Persians combined.

Halfway through the show, Adele looked down and realized that her crackers were missing. She looked over and saw John munching on more crackers; she knew for a fact he had eaten all his before the show even started. She scowled. How dare he steal her food! She wanted to punch him, but didn't have the energy. Her empty stomach growled impatiently, but there was nothing left for her to fill it with.

The Spartans were victorious, and the show ended. Everyone cheered. "Again!" a boy yelled, his dark hair sticking up in a messy cowlick.

"That is all for today's lesson. Tomorrow you will see some wolves. Now it is time for you all to report to the playground."

"Playground?" John said aloud next to her. Adele frowned, annoyed at him for stealing her crackers, but also not liking the sound of the word _playground_. But everyone ran eagerly out of the room, probably thinking of swing sets and seesaws and other fun things to do.

But alas, Mendez and his crew of trainers were waiting outside. All the children stopped and stared, feeling a twinge of dread.

"Playground's a short run away," Mendez grunted, waving them closer. "Fall in!"

The short run was two miles long. And once they finished, they came to what had been so incorrectly named the "playground." Tall wooden poles decked out with ropes, cargo nets, and bridges were everywhere, forming a maze in midair. The swings, hanging platforms, pulleys, and baskets were enough to make Adele's head hurt just from looking at it.

"You will make three separate lines, twenty-five trainees in each," Mendez barked. Everyone hurried to do so as the instructors stepped forward to make them. "Three trainees form a row. Each row is a team. The first row is team one, second row is team two, et cetera. If you don't understand, acknowledge."

No one responded.

"This game is called 'Ring the Bell.'" Mendez pointed, and everyone strained to see what he was pointing at. The tallest pole had a brass bell hung on top and a sliding pole beside it.

"As you can see, you have several options for getting to the bell," Mendez said. "Each team must find their own way and get to the top as a group. After every member of your team has rung the bell, get groundside double time and cross the finish line." He etched a straight line in the sand with his baton. Then he looked up and glared. "Questions, Trainee?"

Adele looked back and saw John with his hand raised.

"What do we get if we win?" John blurted.

Mendez sized the boy up. "The prize is dinner, plain and simple, 117. On tonight's menu is roast turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, corn on the cob, ice cream, and brownies."

Everyone moaned in anticipation. Adele could practically taste it.

"But everyone cannot win this game. Last team to complete the objective goes hungry."

Everyone got quiet and glanced around, wondering if they would be the unlucky hungry team later on.

"Get ready!" Mendez ordered.

Adele craned her neck, her eyes darting from rope to rope as she tried to make heads and tails of the course. It was almost too much for her to comprehend. How was she supposed to get all the way up to the bell, with two kids she barely even knew?

"Hey, you. 124, is it?"

She turned and saw a boy with curly, tousled black hair and blue-green eyes standing to her left. He was about her height, maybe a couple inches taller, and had a thin scar on his chin. On his shirt was the name and number combination "Kirk-018."

"I'm Kirk," the boy said, then jerked his thumb at the obstacle course. "Just follow me, okay? I got this figured out. There's a fast way up, if you two are up for a lot of pulling." His voice had a sing-song quality and an accent that sounded Irish; Adele hadn't heard many Irish people before, so she wasn't sure.

"I'm up for it," a voice to her right said, and she turned to see a boy who was a head taller than her, with brown hair in a pronounced cowlick—the same boy who had demanded a replay of the three hundred Spartans. He half-smiled at her, the first friendly face she'd seen since she came to this place. "My name's Jorge."

"I'm Adele," she replied, giving a slight smile back.

"Can it, he's about to give the signal," Kirk hissed, glancing in Mendez's direction.

Jorge thumped Adele on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll make it easy for you. I'm good at lifting stuff."

Adele wondered how anybody who had gone through what she and all the others had just gone through could possibly be cheerful right now, but she was grateful for the offer.

As soon as Mendez gave the signal, all the teams ran toward the rope course. Adele ran as fast as she could, willing her tired legs to work, trying to keep up with Kirk, who was sprinting quickly toward a basket connected to a set of pulleys. A kid ran in front of her, trying to get to the basket as well, but Jorge rammed into him and shoved him aside. Then he grabbed her by the wrist and virtually dragged her the rest of the way, a seemingly unstoppable juggernaut. Kirk had already climbed into the basket and patted the edge impatiently. "C'mon!" he urged, glancing around at the other teams. Some of them had fallen into the water pools and were floundering around aimlessly, while others were struggling slowly up the ropes like inchworms.

Adele hopped into the basket, followed by Jorge. They all grabbed the rope and pulled hard. Adele's arms burned and she winced every time she had to pull. But the more she thought about dinner, the harder her resolve to win became. Fortunately, Jorge appeared to be equally motivated; he was concentrating hard, small brows furrowed as he grunted and pulled with all his strength. Kirk was just as determined, sweat beading on his face as he worked. The basket rose higher and higher. Overhead the bell rang; Adele risked glancing to see who it was. It was John, the boy who had stolen her crackers. She grinned to herself as she realized he had run off without his team. Maybe he wouldn't get any supper; it was a just punishment for his theft of her lunch.

Finally they reached the top. Adele felt ready to collapse. She gave Kirk a small shove. "Go on, you ring it first. You found the best way up for all of us."

Kirk gave a small nod and exited the basket, clinging like a monkey to the pole. He reached up and rang the bell three times. Then he jumped onto the sliding pole and disappeared from view, heading for the ground. Jorge elbowed Adele. "You next," he said. She rang the bell and followed Kirk, and they both waited for Jorge. After his feet touched the ground, they all took off running, eager to get to the finish line and claim their rightful dinner. There were still plenty of other teams who hadn't rung the bell yet, so they were safe.

Chief Mendez stared at them with an unreadable expression, one eyebrow arched slightly, and wrote something on his clipboard as they passed. Adele saw John standing there, looking pleased with himself. She couldn't wait to see that grin wiped off his face when he learned he'd actually lost.

They stood there for a minute, panting and heaving, then Kirk grinned for the first time since she'd met him. "That was awesome. We all get to eat tonight," he said, satisfied. "We did it!"

"I can taste those brownies already," Jorge moaned wistfully.

"We should all sit together," Adele suggested. "If they'll let us, I mean. You guys are cool."

"You're not so bad yourself," Jorge remarked, standing closer to her.

Mendez glanced in their direction. He could hear them talking. But instead of yelling at them, he turned his attention back to the other trainees, who were beginning to straggle back from the course.

The rest of the exercise played out as Adele thought it would. John's team came in last and didn't get dinner. He looked dumbstruck as Mendez explained the concept of teamwork to him. His teammates, a girl with long blue hair and a boy with blonde hair, were glaring at him the whole time. Adele secretly thought he deserved it, but she felt badly for him as she watched him rub his hungry stomach ruefully.

They marched in a long line all the way back to base. Adele kept looking from left to right, from Kirk to Jorge, though in order to look at Jorge she had to look up. She hadn't expected to make friends today, much less win a contest. Maybe this whole "Spartan" thing wouldn't be so horrible after all, as long as she had people she could depend on.

Later that evening, all the trainees except John's team sat in the dining hall wolfing down their dinner with gusto. Adele crammed hers into her mouth, relishing the taste and texture of every bite. This was way better than those stupid crackers. She glanced over at John, who was watching everyone else eat, now and then sipping at a bottle of water.

Something tugged at her hair, and she turned to see Jorge looking at her innocently. "He did it," he said, pointing at Kirk, who snorted.

"Man, you have some sense of humor. Mine's dead after all we did today," Kirk complained. He downed the remains of his brownie and cocked his head. "So… where are you two from? I'm from Jericho VII."

"I'm from New Berlin," Adele murmured, poking at her food with her fork. Suddenly she seemed less hungry than before. "It's far away, on a planet called Sommer." Thinking about home made her think about the fact that Dr. Halsey said she could never go back to her mommy and daddy, and that made her sad.

"Well, I'm from around here… sort of. Town called Palhaza," Jorge said. He eyed Adele's brownie greedily. "You gonna eat that?"

"You can have it," Adele sighed, setting her fork down. She propped her chin in her hands. "How long do you think we'll be stuck here? Before we, you know, get to go to other planets and… stuff. The lady said we get to protect Earth and all the colonies-"

"Cut the chatter, trainees!"

All three heads turned and looked up to see Mendez standing over them, glowering. He had a stun baton in one hand; the end was sparking with electricity. "No talking," he barked, then moved on, stalking as if he was hunting prey.

Adele looked back at Jorge to see that he had stuffed the entire brownie into his mouth, like he was afraid Mendez would try and take it or something. The sight made her snort and she clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle the burst of laughter. Mendez's head whipped around and he stared at them, working his jaw, then he moved on to chastise other trainees who were making noise.

Kirk shook his head, grinning from ear to ear. "This is gonna be interesting," he whispered, glancing from Adele to Jorge and back. "So we're all friends now, right?"

"Right," Jorge answered immediately, then glanced at Adele. "If that's okay."

Adele smiled and nodded, not sure what to say. She felt like Kirk was a good leader and Jorge… well, he was nice, and he was stronger than probably her and Kirk put together. It wouldn't hurt to make friends with them, since they were a great team anyway.

Dr. Halsey finished looking over Mendez's notes that assessed the seventy-five Spartans' performance on their first official day of training. 117 had misunderstood the value of teamwork and as a result, his team had gone without supper. It was only fair, but she had expected more from a boy as qualified for success… and as _lucky…_ as 117.

She glanced over a particularly wordy report, penciled in rapidly but not sloppily. Mendez was a military man through and through, making every word and letter precise and conspicuous. According to him, trainees 018, 124, and 052 had been the first to conquer the bell challenge as a cohesive team. He had also added that they were "chatty." Such a minor flaw could be addressed over the course of the next few years, as they would be brainwashed and molded into soldiers. It would be unpleasant… but it would have to be done, if they were to become proper Spartans.

She had almost considered disqualifying 052 in the early stages of the selection process. According to the ONI spies sent to observe him when he entered school, he had an unusually "positive" disposition, having been reared on an old-fashioned farm by hardworking, religious Hungarian parents; however, this only went so far, as he had smashed the face of a classmate who had killed the first grade class pet, a type of gerbil native to Reach. Also, he had put a bully in the hospital, for which his parents had been sued. Halsey was sure that, if properly motivated, 052 would do horrific damage to whatever he considered to be an enemy, given the means and training.

018 was a born leader: calm under pressure, quick to identify the best solution to a problem, good at telling others what to do. He was one of the most promising candidates, with a knack for accuracy in mathematics and technology, even at the tender age of six. He had concealed a kitchen knife in his sleeve the night he was abducted and, before being sedated, had stabbed an operative in the thigh. This was unsurprising; 018 had previously lived in an abusive home, and had a few scars to prove it. His mental state was untarnished, however. Halsey had no doubt he would make a fine Spartan… if he survived what was to come.

Then there was 124. She had no special qualities; her genetic and mental abilities were well within the requirements Halsey had set for Spartan designation, but on the most part, she had a fairly normal childhood, no extreme feats or special circumstances besides skipping two grades. Given the proper training, she would most certainly become a fearsome and skilled warrior, but for now she was just a normal—if not unusually bright and physically strong—little girl.

A little girl who, like all seventy-four of the other trainees, was about to be permanently warped by the coming hardships and horrors of the Spartan-II program.


End file.
